Yuletide Spirit
by Raindrop Allen
Summary: Christmas isn't always about goodwill and joy.


Raindrop woke early Christmas morning and climbed out of bed. She changed her clothes quickly, putting on her heaviest clothes. Then she tied her shoes, brushed her hair, and took Spot's coat off the hook. She knew he wouldn't mind too much, if she wasn't gone very long. She carefully opened the door to the bunkroom and crept to the stairs. The rest of the newsies were still asleep. When she stepped out of the Lodging House, the bitter wind instantly swept through her. She quickly buttoned Spot's coat and pulled on his gloves. The ribbon she had used to hold back her long hair wasn't helping much against the blowing wind. She shivered, thrust her hands in the pockets of the coat, and started walking.

She wasn't headed anywhere in particular, but she had to get out of the Lodging House. She wasn't being fair to herself or the other newsies. She wasn't in the Christmas spirit. She laughed bitterly to herself.

_In the Christmas spirit? Lissa Allen, you might as well not even know what the Christmas spirit is._

At any rate, she was just going to spoil everyone else's good time, so she decided to take off for a while.

_Besides, there is absolutely nothing fun about watching everyone around you being happy while you aren't._

She wandered to an area of Brooklyn that was filled with small shops and stores. She walked by them slowly, looking at the cheerful Christmas displays. Even in a poorer part of New York City, people found something to celebrate, to rejoice in during the holidays.

She kicked the slush on the curb, stained brown from the dirt of the city. The snow was only another inconvience to city people, giving the streets a more drab appearance than usual. The relative silence was disconcerting. Brooklyn, though not as busy as a borough like Manhattan, always had it's own bustling noises - from peddlers and shopkeepers advertising their wares, to the newsies shouting headlines, in addition to other everyday clamor. Christmas morning, however, left the streets mostly deserted. It was too early for people to be visiting their friends and relatives, and all the shops were closed.

She stopped in front of a small toy store. Amidst the various bears and boxes of marbles was a china doll. Raindrop touched the glass in front of the doll, her breath fogging the display window. A number of years earlier, when she still had an interest in such things, her parents had given her a china doll to play with. It was her most cherished toy, and went everywhere with her.

"Abigail," she whispered softly. Eventually she had outgrown plaything, and kept it in her dresser, buried underneath her clothes instead of giving it away. From time to time, when she felt sad or lonely she would take Abigail out and softly brush her hair. Abigail was left behind when Raindrop had abruptly left her home after her parents' death. She forced herself to leave the display and continue walking. A few stores down was a bakery, one of the few places open. Elaborate breads and pastries were displayed in the window.

_Mama always sent Papa to buy newly baked bread on Christmas morning,_ she reflected wistfully._ Right after we opened our presents. He would buy twisted French bread and Mama would cook us a wonderful Christmas breakfast. _She sighed softly. She'd be lucky to get much of a breakfast at all this year.

She continued walking, cutting through a park and slowly heading back towards the Lodging House. Rain started to drizzle down in an unrythmic patteren, both cold and dismal. Raindrop drew Spot's coat tighter around herself and walked quicker. She turned down another street, now only a few blocks away from the Lodging House. The rain was beginning to soak through the coat. She turned a corner just as a carriage passed through a large puddle of water and slush. It flew into the air, thoroughly drenching Raindrop. She groaned in exasperation and muttered a few words under her breath.

Most of the newsies were up and getting dressed when she got back to the Lodging House. Tricks hurried over to her, but she waved him away. She walked into the room she shared with Spot and began peeling the sopping clothing from herself.

"Hey, are ya awright?" Spot asked her, just finished getting up himself. "What happened?" Raindrop shook her head.

"I'se fine. Jist went fer a walk an' got in da way of a carriage an' a big puddle. Nothing big." She glanced at his coat, which was lying on the floor. "Sawry 'bout gittin' yer coat so wet." Spot shook his head.

"Naw, it's fine. You got moah clothes? Yer freezin'." Raindrop nodded.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Jist give me a minute ta change." Spot nodded and left the room. When Raindrop joined the rest of the goup in the bunkroom she was handed a cup of hot chocolate and Spot wrapped a blanket around her. While the rest of the newsies opened the few presents they had gotten, Spot sat on a bunk with her and handed her a small package. He put his arms around Raindrop and kissed her softly.

"Merry Christmas," he said, smiling. Raindrop slowly smiled back at him.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered back.

**/ [Yuletide Spirit][1] / [Library][2] / [Brooklyn][3] /**

   [1]: YuletideSpirit.html
   [2]: Library.html
   [3]: Brooklyn.html



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